


Satisfaction

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Intimacy, Kink, M/M, Satisfaction, Secrets, Vulnerability, cases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the nature of their relationship changes, John can't understand why Sherlock is still holding back, but he's determined to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Satisfaction Breeds Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It had been a satisfying end to the case. In the taxi on the way back to the flat, Sherlock relived the moment when it had all become clear and the incredible feeling that came with that. He would never not love that moment.

Sherlock glanced over at John whose help was growing with every case. Sherlock knew he was relying on John more and more, and strangely that didn't actually bother him. Sherlock enjoyed their partnership. He didn't mind John's slower analysis or perpetual questions or dramatic blog posts, because in truth all of those things were helpful. John was helpful. And fun. Sherlock had never had any interest in fun -- things that most people found fun, Sherlock found incredibly annoying. But solving cases with John was enjoyable. Living with John was enjoyable. Being with John was just . . . fun.

Sherlock turned his head towards the window again. He was pretty sure John felt the same. Sherlock had noticed that John was going on fewer dates. He hadn't even been talking about women recently. It seemed like John had been looking at Sherlock a little differently -- sitting a little closer on the sofa and perhaps even touching Sherlock a little more often. Maybe Sherlock had been imagining those things. In fact he'd definitely been imagining them -- he imagined them in the shower yesterday which led to an erection. Is that what John was doing during his long showers each morning -- imagining Sherlock and getting erections? The thought of that gave Sherlock an unusual but not unpleasant feeling. 

"Did you find that enjoyable?" Sherlock asked, still looking at the window.

John was looking out of his own window, thinking about this case. More accurately he was thinking about Sherlock and this case. And then he was thinking about every case because recently he had noticed something was happening on each case that worried him a little bit. He was falling for Sherlock. He'd noticed right from the start actually, the way compliments were falling out of his mouth with no control, and his body was warming at every deduction Sherlock made. It was an odd thing to find so appealing, but John couldn't help it. Watching Sherlock work was intoxicating. But that went against everything John knew so he'd done his best to ignore it. Sherlock didn't do relationships, John wasn't gay. He was probably just getting excited about the adventures, and he was confusing his feelings. 

Only those feelings didn't stop. With each new case, John felt these feelings more and more. He wondered if Sherlock could tell, and that had worried him. He didn't want things to become awkward or different. Then he'd started noticing little things like Sherlock sitting closer to him on the sofa and touching him more often . . . as if he was trying to show John that he was different as well. That maybe those comments from that first night at Angelo's no longer applied. He glanced over at Sherlock when he spoke and admitted to himself that his own comments from that first night didn't apply anymore either. He cleared his throat softly and nodded. 

"Yes, I did. You were brilliant, as always," he smiled. 

"It's the most satisfying feeling in the world," Sherlock said. "For me, at least."

"I can tell," John smiled. Sherlock always lit up when he got something right.

"And for you?" Sherlock said. "Is it satisfying?"

John nodded. "I love going on cases with you -- watching you work."

"And helping -- you help so much," Sherlock said. "I wish I could help you . . . feel this satisfied."

John looked over at Sherlock again and swallowed hard. Did that mean what he thought it meant? "What do you mean?" he asked bluntly.

"You know exactly what I mean," Sherlock said. "You're always with me when I reach the peak of satisfaction. I want to be there when you do. I want to give you that moment." The taxi pulled up outside Baker Street. Sherlock looked over at John. "Let me," he said.

John held his gaze and swallowed hard again. "I would like that," he nodded. Whatever it meant. He was dying to find out. 

Sherlock got out of the taxi and moved quickly to unlock the door and then go up the stairs to their flat. Once inside, he looked at John and said, "Come into my room with me." He held out his hand.

John took his coat off and took Sherlock's hand. He noticed his own was very steady which meant he was nervous beyond belief. He was always good under stress.

Sherlock smiled and moved with John to his room. Inside he turned and put his hands to John's face, kissing him deeply. "I think I know you well enough to know what you'd like," he whispered. "But tell me if you want something else." He kissed him hard again.

John kissed back with equal fervour and gripped at Sherlock's shirt, moaning softly. This was perfect. Sherlock didn't need to change anything.

Sherlock stepped back and pulled John to the bed, letting him lie flat against it. Then he crawled over John and sucked roughly on his neck as his hand moved down John's body to his waistband, which he gripped before fiddling to the release the button and zip and slip his hand inside, palming John's hardening cock.

John moaned loudly and arched into Sherlock's touch, bucking into his hand a bit as he pushed Sherlock's shirt from his shoulders. "I want to feel you . . . all of you." His hands moved over Sherlock's shoulders and back and chest and stomach. John was touching every inch he could.

Sherlock stripped John of his clothes and then gripped his cock, stroking slowly at first and then faster. He dropped to John's chest, nuzzling each nipple before moving back and suck at the skin of John's neck. He moved his own body over John's so that the bed rocked with them.

"Take everything off too," John panted, pushing at Sherlock's trousers and pants. He touched Sherlock's cock, wrapping his fingers around and stroking quickly. 

Sherlock took his clothes off and then lay back down, lying to the side of John and leaning over to stroke him. "I want to watch your face," Sherlock said. "I want to see the satisfaction."

John turned his face to look at Sherlock, meeting his gaze. "You will," he murmured, rolling into his hand.

"Good," Sherlock said, making a little smile. He watched John -- watched his face change slightly when his rhythm sped slightly, watched the breath in his chest shift as he became more excited, watched the colour of his face as it flushed. He leaned down a little closer to cover his chest and neck with kisses.

John panted and moved into his hand, moaning Sherlock's name softly as he gripped the bed.

"It's good," Sherlock whispered against John's skin. It all was -- he liked seeing John like this, being here for this part of John's life. "Will you come? What do you want me to do?" 

"Just . . .just a bit harder," John moaned, turning to meet his gaze again. When Sherlock complied John shivered and really gripped the bed hard, moaning loudly as he came onto his own belly.

Sherlock watched everything on John's face. He saw that micro-second when John let go -- John Watson who always tried to keep himself in check lost all control and it was . . . well, it was beautiful. And then John was back and panting and sweating and trying to catch his breath and that was beautiful, too, because he was satisfied. And Sherlock had made him that way. Sherlock pulled away his hand and then said, "Come on, get in the bed properly. Let's go to sleep." He shifted to try to pull down the covers.

John moved and was in the middle of processing that Sherlock wanted him to sleep here when he realised something else was off. "Wait . . . you haven't finished." He reached for Sherlock's cock under the covers, moving closer.

"I'm good, John," Sherlock said, reaching down and pulling away John's hand. "I liked all that." He turned round and moved back so John was spooning him. "I wouldn't mind doing this again after the next case. A very satisfying night."

"You don't want anything?" John asked, wrapping his arms around him.

"Don't be daft," Sherlock said, turning his head slightly. "I liked what we did. That's all I needed." He squeezed John's arm a little.

"I know you liked it but . . . I want to satisfy you too," John said. He pet Sherlock's hair lightly as he waited for his answer.

"John," Sherlock said, shaking his head. "Stop that, okay? I liked everything about tonight except this talking bit. Let's go to sleep, now, yeah?" 

John stilled his fingers and sighed softly. "Okay," he reluctantly agreed.

"It's good, John," Sherlock said quietly. "Just let it be good." He settled against his pillow and closed his eyes.

Sherlock let the excitement of the night drain from him, and he slept for a while. When he woke, John was still pressed behind him. Sherlock shifted, putting a little more space between them and then stared up at the ceiling for a bit before falling back to sleep again.


	2. The Morning After

John dreamt that he was sleeping with Sherlock, not sex dreams, but properly sleeping in his bed. When he woke up he stretched and was thinking what an odd dream it was before remembering where he was. And then why he was here. Everything had happened so quickly, he didn't have the chance to really think about it. Not the sex so much because he saw that coming when they were still in the cab. It was more the part after, when Sherlock curled up to him and they spooned all night. He had never expected that. And then there was Sherlock not wanting to finish in return and he didn't understand that either. He turned his head and looked at Sherlock, still sleeping, trying to figure it all out. 

Sherlock woke up and saw John staring at him. "What are you doing?" he asked, stretching his arms a bit and yawning.

"Just thinking," he said. He turned to look at the ceiling. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You didn't freak me out," Sherlock said. "It's just a bit unusual, your being here, I mean. But good." He smiled and then sat up. "Tea?" he asked, but didn't make a move to go make it.

"Sure," John said, sitting up a bit as well. "Um . . . are we going to talk about last night?" 

"I don't think it's necessary," Sherlock said. He had a feeling John did.

"I just wondered . . . I just have a couple questions," John said. 

"Are you sure these questions are quite essential?" Sherlock asked, rubbing his face a bit.

John nodded. "Yeah, I think they are."

"Go ahead then," Sherlock said. "But before you do, let me say that I enjoyed last night and would like if it were to happen again. And I have no questions."

"Right," John said. That answered one of his questions -- they were going to be doing this again. "Um . . . are you going to . . . not participate every time?" 

"Um, I'm relatively sure I participated," Sherlock said. "If you'd like to search my hand for DNA, I'm certain it's covered in yours."

"You know what I mean," John said. "Do you . . . not like that yourself?"

"God, John," Sherlock exhaled. "I like . . . things. I like a lot of things. Except this talking." He rolled his eyes a bit dramatically.

"I just . . . if we keep doing this I want to make you feel good too, and I am just trying to find out how to do that," he said. 

"I did feel good," Sherlock whined and then stopped himself. He reached over and touched John's arm. "Honestly. If I need something else . . . I'll tell you, I think, but I liked it, all right?" He slid down the bed a bit. "God, you shouldn't harass someone in the morning, especially before they've had tea."

"You were supposed to be getting the tea," John reminded him. "Anyway, it's a habit to give back so . . . I just don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all."

"A habit?" Sherlock said. "Wow, don't over-romanticise, John." He moved to sit up and then got out of bed. "This talking . . . is that a habit as well? Because it's a bit annoying." He pulled a face at him and then went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

John flopped onto his back and sighed. Sherlock was avoiding the question. He knew him well enough to recognise this technique.

Sherlock made two cups of tea and brought them back to his room. "This is unusual -- me making the tea and you harassing me. Except for the second part, I mean." He handed John a mug and sat back down on the bed. "We need to get to work."

John sat up again and accepted the mug, taking a long sip. So Sherlock really didn't want to talk about this at all. Maybe John had been right when he assumed Sherlock just didn't participate himself. Is that what he'd meant when he said he didn't do relationships? John would have to try and wrap his mind around that, but he wasn't going to ask anymore right now. "Okay," he said. "Do you have another case already?"

"Well . . . no," Sherlock said. "But we need to write this one up and maybe something will happen in the meantime." He took a sip of tea. "When we get up, you start writing, I'll get in touch with Lestrade, and by the end of the day we should have something." He looked over at him and smiled before taking another drink.

"All right," John agreed. He sipped at his tea and looked around the room. "I should get dressed then. I think I'll go up to my room and put something comfortable on."

"Please do," Sherlock said smiling. "I didn't want to say anything but your nudity all day would be somewhat distracting." He got up as well and grabbed some clothes to go take a shower.

John flushed lightly but couldn't help smiling as he hurried to his room in his pants, putting on comfortable pajamas. When he came down again he opened his blog and started typing up the case while he waited for Sherlock.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom, clean and dressed. He glanced over at John and smiled. "Going casual today, eh?" he said as he made them each another cup of tea and then moved to his desk. He got to sorting his emails -- nothing from Lestrade yet, but a few leads from the website. 

"I told you I'd be comfortable," John smiled, taking his tea.

Sherlock looked over at John. "I'm glad you're comfortable," he said genuinely. "I'm comfortable, too, John, which as you know is something I've rarely experienced with someone else." He swallowed a little awkwardly. "Thank you for that," he said quietly and then turned back to his computer.

They worked together for the rest of the day, pausing only to eat the food they had delivered. Sherlock read over John's work and was grateful there was no mention of their post-case activities. Once it went live, Sherlock decided to take a break with an hour of staring at nothing to clear his head. Around midnight, he stood up, made a cup of tea and checked his email.

"Four emails in the last hour, John," he said excitedly. "You're brilliant."

John enjoyed the work day and when Sherlock disappeared into his head, John took a quick shower and then read until Sherlock returned. John felt genuinely proud when Sherlock called him brilliant, even though it was a bit silly.

"I'm glad you're happy," John smiled.

"I am," Sherlock said. He looked over at John, who was still looking handsome and still making Sherlock feel comfortable. "I am happy," he repeated and then his voice changed slightly. "And satisfied. Perhaps I could help you feel the same?"


	3. Again

John looked up at Sherlock and felt his body warm. Was that really all Sherlock needed? He couldn't wrap his mind around that. "Um . . .okay. Yeah," he nodded.

"Good," Sherlock said, getting up from the desk. He moved over to the sofa and took John's hand to lead him into the bedroom. "Maybe a little less talking afterwards, please?" he smiled as he turned and kissed John's mouth.

"Don't judge me," John said softly, following him into his room.

"Is that your thing then?" Sherlock said, grinding softly against John. "Having a good time and then ruining it with perpetual questions?" He grinned stupidly and started to take off John's pajamas.

"Wasn't ruined," John grumbled, watching Sherlock's hands and touching his arms lightly.

Sherlock slowly bent down, covering John's chest with kisses. Then he pulled the string on John's pajama bottoms, letting them drop to the floor, and lifted John's cock to his mouth. His tongue swirled around it before he took more inside. 

"Oh god," John moaned with half surprise, clutching Sherlock's hair. He looked down and moaned again at the sight of it.

Sherlock moaned at John's touch and then reached one hand to pull John's behind his back. He held it there as he continued to suck his cock, taking him in deeper. He could taste the sex on John, and Sherlock's own cock ached with need 

John wiggled his fingers in a half attempt at a struggle before settling and watching again. He thought of using his other hand, but it seemed Sherlock didn't want John to touch him too much. "Sherlock . . . that's good."

Sherlock shifted for a moment to kiss the tops of John's thigh and then moved inward, licking across his balls. One hand stroked John's cock as his other squeezed around John's wrist.

John wiggled his fingers again with a soft gasp, shivering as heat moved through him. For all his talk of not doing this sort of thing, Sherlock was very good.

Sherlock flicked his tongue over John's cock again, then let his hand go and stood up. "Lie down," he instructed. As John moved, Sherlock stripped himself of his clothes and crawled over top of him. He kissed John's mouth hungrily as he lowered his body to grind against him. With no clothes between them, the heat filled Sherlock's body. "God," he moaned into John's skin.

Now John was sure that Sherlock had an erection as well. He thrust up harder, wanting him to get off as well.

Sherlock continued to moan in pleasure -- everything felt so good. He slowly moved down John's body, kissing and trailing his tongue as he did. He held John's cock and looked up at John's face. "I want to make you come from this," he said, swallowing John down again. He pressed his own cock against the bed for friction.

"Jesus," John moaned loudly. That was by far the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, especially coming out of Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock stroked John's base as he turned his attention to the tip, sucking softly before pushing him further down his throat. He moved back and forth in a rhythm, feeling John's hips begin to respond. Sherlock's own hips rocked against the bed.

John writhed softly, gripping at the bed by his hips. "Sherlock I'm . . . oh god . . ." He was so close. He lifted his head to see, to watch Sherlock moving, and he came as he fell back against the bed, moaning Sherlock's name.

Sherlock swallowed John down. Then he lifted his head and said, "Fuck, John, that was gorgeous." He crawled up John's body and kissed his mouth softly. "Sleep here again, okay?" he said, moving to get into the bed.

"Did you . . . ?" John trailed off and tried to look as he shifted to get more comfortable. He'd wanted to see Sherlock finish as well. He knew that'd be sexier than he could even imagine.

"Did I enjoy it?" Sherlock said. "I did. Come on," he added, pulling on John. "No talking, just sleeping."

John sighed and had no choice but to stop talking. Sherlock had been so very nice and John didn't want to annoy him. He curled close and wrapped an arm around him, tucking his head so that his forehead rest between Sherlock's shoulder blades.

Sherlock snuggled against John. He felt satisfied as he fell to sleep.


	4. Something Else Is Going On Here

The next morning, Sherlock woke before John and got up to make them some tea. He checked his email while he waited for the kettle but none of yesterday's people had responded yet, which was a bit disappointing.

John felt Sherlock slip away and he turned onto his back, stretching as he yawned loudly. Then he noticed the time and he sat up quickly, hurrying into the bathroom to shower. He had work today and in all of the excitement hadn't set an alarm.

Sherlock turned his head when he saw John come out of the bedroom. "There's tea," he called but John was already in the bathroom. He must have work. Sherlock felt a pang of disappointment, but then realised that was a bit stupid. He waited for John to come out and then said, "No appointments set up yet. Hopefully soon though."

"I forgot to set my alarm," John said in way of an answer. "If something good comes up just give me a call and I'll try to get out early." He took a few sips of tea and then grabbed the toast as it popped out. "See you later," he added as he rushed out.

Sherlock turned his head but John was gone. He felt another pang of disappointment but shook his head to make it go away. Yes, he'd been expecting a kiss goodbye but why should he have received one? He got up from his desk and moved into his bedroom and got back into bed.

The room smelled a bit of sex, and the pillow next to him definitely smelled of John. Sherlock inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He thought of what John and he had done the last two nights. It had been quite sexy. Sherlock didn't usually desire things like that -- he had turned off thoughts of sex long ago. But John made everything different. Or almost everything. 

Sherlock turned on his side and relived last night. He thought about kissing John and then bending down before him. He thought about John slipping his hand into Sherlock's hair. And then Sherlock was hard and he wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking steadily, imagining John's hand in his hair, until he was coming onto the sheets.

He turned over on his back, panting as he stared up at the ceiling. That had felt good. He couldn't lie to himself, that was a different kind of satisfaction than what he felt with cases or what he'd felt so far with John. Could he ever feel that with John there? He wasn't sure. He wasn't even entirely sure he wanted to. He stood up and stripped off his pajamas and the sheets. He took a shower and then threw the bedding into the wash. He checked his email, but there were still no responses. He was bored now.

John kept himself busy at the surgery and tried not to think about what had been going on at the flat. Two nights of touching and sex and cuddling could be the start of a nice routine, but John was very uneasy about the fact that Sherlock wanted nothing back. The first night might have been nerves or shyness, but last night he had specifically stopped John from touching him. He had to admit it made him a bit uncomfortable, but a small voice in his head scolded him for feeling that way. Just because it was different than what he was used to didn't mean it was wrong. After all, Sherlock claimed to get the same satisfaction from solving cases -- from John helping him do that. Then again, it did feel like a claim, rather than a fact.

As hard as John tried, he just couldn't buy it. Sherlock was human after all, and he had needs just like everyone else. Suddenly he thought about Sherlock getting off alone -- maybe he just didn't like doing that sort of thing in front of someone else. John wondered if he could convince Sherlock to change his mind, but he knew that wouldn't happen easily. He was going to have to see how this continued to go and maybe he would find an opportunity to explore more. Maybe he could do some investigating, outside of the bedroom, so he could get answers without raising Sherlock's defenses.

When he finally finished for the day, John stopped to pick up some Thai for dinner before heading for the flat, trying to organise his questions and thoughts. Tonight might not be the time to ask, but he felt better having a plan.

Sherlock was pleased when John got home. He'd obsessively checked his email all day, and there was still nothing. He needed something else to think about. He got up and got plates for their dinner. "How was work?" he asked.

"It was busy," John said. "I am glad to be home. How was your day? Any cases?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said. "It's ridiculous." It wasn't really -- he had only replied to the queries last night. But it wasn't what he'd wanted so he was pouting. "I thought your post was good but maybe it just attracted idiots," he added, smiling a bit.

"Don't harass our readers because you're pouting," John grinned. He took his food to the sofa and put the news on.

"I'll do whatever I want when I'm pouting," Sherlock said in an especially pouting way. He followed John to the sofa and played with his food on the plate, eating only a few bites.

"If you like, you can still have a satisfying night . . ." John suggested quietly.

Sherlock sat silently for a moment. "Some days are just not very satisfying. I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done about that," he said, standing up and taking his plate to the kitchen.

John felt a small, quick spike of anger because it wasn't fair. Was Sherlock sick of him? But just as quickly he realised that was stupid, and he sighed long and softly before finishing his food. "If that's what you really think then I think I'll head up to bed. It was a long day and I'm tired." He got up and washed his plate quickly before heading for the stairs. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yeah," Sherlock called. "See you in the morning." He tidied up the kitchen and then went into his room. He got into bed and tried to go to sleep, but struggled. He took a deep breath, but he could no longer smell John on his sheets. It didn't seem right. 

John climbed into his own bed and thought about the night. He felt bad for getting angry. It wasn't Sherlock's fault he was different. But John had felt his erection the other night -- had it really just been his body responding? Why didn't his body want that again tonight?

He pulled out his phone and got on the internet, looking up Sherlock's behaviour to see what it showed. There was nothing useful. Asexuality was a possibility but it didn't make sense -- Sherlock had been the one to initiate the sex. John didn't ask for it or hint that he needed it from Sherlock.

Sherlock continued to try to sleep -- turning over and over, even turning on his light to read before giving up and trying again. Eventually, he got out of bed and padded up to John's room. He knocked on the door. "John, can I come in for a minute?" he asked.

When John heard the knock, he quickly shut his phone off and ruffled the bed a bit to look like he had just sat up. "Yeah, are you okay?"

"Yes," Sherlock said pushing open the door and moving over to the bed. "Can I sleep in here for a minute?" he asked, crawling into the bed.

"Just a minute?" John teased, scooting over to make room for him and tugging the covers over both of them. "As it's my bed, I'd like to request that you spoon me," he added softly, scooting back against Sherlock.

Sherlock moved close to John and wrapped his arm around his waist. He snuggled his face into John's back and took a deep breath, relaxing a little. He closed his eyes.

John closed his eyes and covered Sherlock's hand with his own. It was nice, lying like this. Wrapped up with Sherlock he realised it didn't really matter that they were so different, that Sherlock wanted different things. This is what mattered. Sherlock wanted to be with him, to be close with him. This is what John wanted as well.


	5. Another Satisfying Case

Sherlock fell asleep soon after moving into John's bedroom. In the morning, he woke up, now turned away and hogging most of the covers. He pushed John's shoulder lightly. "Do you have to work today or should I let you sleep in?" he asked.

John groaned softly. "Work," he grumbled, pulling at the covers and curling up again.

"Fine," Sherlock said a bit grumpily. "I'll make some tea." He got up out of bed and went down to the kitchen.

John couldn't fall asleep again so he grudgingly got up and shuffled into the bathroom. He came out feeling more refreshed and awake. He went into the kitchen and accepted his mug gratefully. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sherlock said. He moved to his desk and checked his email. "There's something," he said, trying to read quickly. "Well . . . it's not great but there may be a possibility of something." He looked over at John. "I'll see if I can meet up with them and get it going." 

"Great," John smiled. "Just text me and I'll try to meet you. Hopefully it's not as busy today."

Sherlock got up and moved into the kitchen, standing around a bit stupidly. "Will do," he said. "I'll see you later then."

The way Sherlock came into the kitchen made John think that maybe . . . well, he was already going for it now. He leaned over and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "See you," he said moving towards the door.

Sherlock pulled back his head a bit. "All right then," he said. "Come on, pervert, give it a rest," he said, smiling widely. "Go to work and do doctor things and let me stay here and do detective things."

"Excuse me for being sweet," John said and then left for work.

Sherlock was still smiling as John left. He moved to the window and watched John walk down the street. He stood there smiling for a few moments before he realised what he was doing. So he stopped doing it and sat down at his desk, typing up a response to the email, requesting a meeting. He included his phone number in the hopes of not having to wait too long.

It worked. He met with the man at a coffee shop. The case wasn't much -- in fact Sherlock was relatively sure he'd solved it before he'd even finished his tea, but he told the man he'd get back to him within 48 hours. He walked over to Lestrade's office and did a little research on his computer, passing the info by Greg just in case there was something more there. There wasn't. It was a boring case but quick and easy, and Sherlock had solved it. He headed home. 

The surgery wasn't as busy as John had hoped to keep his mind busy so he spent a majority of the time thinking about Sherlock again and how their night had gone. He liked what was happening.

_Is the case heating up?  -JW_

_It was so hot that I solved it within five minutes. Boring but done. SH_

_Sorry it wasn't a good one. If it makes you feel better I'm bored as well. Slow day. -JW_

_Just come home then. Even boring cases are satisfying. SH_

Sherlock stared at the message for a moment and then hit send.

John bit his lip as he read the text three times.

_I can't leave Sarah alone -- things might pick up. It's hard to predict. Do you think your satisfaction will last until I get home? -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_I'll be sure it does. Don't do anything satisfying at work. SH_

_I promise. -JW_

Now John had to force himself extra hard to focus on his work. It was nearly impossible. Between every patient he checked his phone but there was nothing new. He supposed that was better, a sign to keep working. Finally Sarah was closing up, and John was hurrying out past her. He took a cab and was already a bit hard climbing the stairs up to their flat.

"Now or later?" Sherlock asked the minute John walked through the door.

"Now. Please," John said. "I haven't been able to get it out of my mind."

Sherlock stood up and moved towards John, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the sofa. "Lie down," he said, starting to take John's trousers off.

John didn't hesitate, falling onto the sofa and gazing at Sherlock. "What are we doing today?"

"The same . . . maybe," Sherlock said, kissing John roughly. He reached into the side table's drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. He poured some into his palm and started stroking John's cock, feeling it get hard in his hand. He leaned over and kissed John again.

John kissed back hungrily, his hand coming up to hold Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock's hand moved smoothly as he stroked John, letting his fingers dip to occasionally cover between his legs. "I've thought about this all afternoon," he said, moving his mouth to suck on John's ear lobe.

"I've been thinking about it all day," John moaned, writhing on the sofa as he moved up into Sherlock's hand.

"Touch yourself," Sherlock said. He stroked the inside of John's thighs and then between his legs.

John squirmed as he brought his hand down and stroked his own cock. His legs spread a bit more for Sherlock.

"That's sexy," Sherlock purred into John's ear. His fingertips brushed over John's hole as his hand moved further between John's legs. His lips slipped down to John's neck and sucked on the skin. He slowly pushed one finger inside John. 

"Oh fuck," John moaned loudly, his hand moving faster. "You are . . . this . . . this is . . ." He trailed off in a sigh, still squirming in pleasure.

Sherlock pushed his finger further inside, staying still before beginning to slide it in and out. Then he curled it slightly, brushing against John's prostate. "I want to see you," he said. "Show me."

"I am," John mumbled, stroking faster and panting heavily as he arched off the sofa a bit.

Sherlock kept moving his finger into John. He felt John's body moving against him, and he tipped his head to watch John touching himself. He exhaled slowly, dropping his other hand to palm himself through his trousers.

"Sherlock, I'm . . . please . . .I'm close," John moaned, thrusting against his hand.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John's mouth hard. "Love," he mumbled softly.

John shivered as he tugged Sherlock down for another kiss as he came onto his belly, squeezing around his finger.

Sherlock kissed John again as he slowly pulled out of him. He stayed there, keeping close until John caught his breath. "That was good," he said softly. He shifted, moving over to his own chair. He adjusted himself a bit, trying to focus on his breathing so his erection would go away.

"It was," John agreed, pulling up his trousers and then sitting up on the sofa. "Are you okay?" he couldn't help asking now.

"Yeah, that was good," Sherlock repeated. He shifted again even though he knew it'd give everything away, but he was sure that if he just could get in the right position, he'd be fine or at least he'd look from fine from John's angle. 

John looked at him closely. "Sherlock . . . why don't you let me help you?" he asked softly.

"I told you -- the case is solved," Sherlock said, deliberately misunderstanding John's question. He stood up, turning away and sitting down at his desk where he had a little more coverage. "How was work anyway? What are doing for dinner then?" 

"We can order in -- Sherlock, you're uncomfortable," he insisted. "Please, let me help."

"I'm not, I'm just . . . sweaty," Sherlock said, standing up but turning a bit away. "I think I'll take a shower before we go out . . ." He moved quickly to the bathroom, locking the door and then standing in front of the mirror to look at himself. His face was flushed from excitement and probably a bit from embarrassment. He took a few deep breaths and then stripped and got into the shower. He turned it as cold as he could tolerate but then it was too cold and hurt his skin. He looked down. It was still there. He thought about what had just happened on the sofa. He imagined John's face and then John's hand. He lifted his own hand into his hair, rubbing it through as the water fell onto his head. With his other hand, he reached down and stroked firm and hard until he was coming. He stayed as quiet as he could. He leaned his head against the tile and then quickly grabbed the soap and rinsed off. He got out and dressed as quickly as he could. He looked at his face in the mirror again, but it was still flushed. He took a few deep breaths before stepping out.

"I had the water too hot," Sherlock said for no reason. "I think I'll lie down for a few moments." He quickly moved into his bedroom, keeping the door wide open so John didn't think he was up to anything, before lying down on the bed and trying to clear his head.

John watched Sherlock hurry into the bathroom and he almost got up to follow, to stop him from going in but he didn't. John wasn't stupid. He knew what Sherlock was doing in there, and he was trying very hard not to feel insulted about it. When Sherlock came out with no erection and a flushed face, John knew he'd been right. He watched Sherlock as he lied and went off to his room. He leaned back against the sofa and sighed.

Clearly Sherlock did this sort of thing. Why wouldn't he let John help? John got up and went into the bathroom to get a flannel to clean off his stomach. Then he got himself some leftovers and moved to the sofa, turning on the television to watch as he ate.

Sherlock lay on the bed a little while longer. He knew that what he was doing probably didn't seem fair or kind to John. But how could he explain things? Things were good as they were -- even better now that they were doing this -- why couldn't that just be enough?

He got up and went to the kitchen to make some tea. He saw John on the sofa so he made two cups and then went over. He handed one to John and then sat down, holding his own close to his face. "I can't really explain," he said quietly, staring forward at the television.

John watched Sherlock come out of his room and expected him to go hide again. To his surprise Sherlock joined him on the sofa. When he spoke John looked over, holding his mug in his lap. "You can try. I won't . . . it'll be okay," he said quietly.

"It's unnecessary," Sherlock said quietly. "Things are good as they are." He took a sip of tea.

"But it's not if you had to go take care of yourself," John said. He couldn't help it. He needed to know at least a little bit.

"I didn't --" Sherlock said defensively before realising it was stupid to pretend. "-- _have_ to. I just did. It was over, you were done and I just . . ." He looked over at John quickly and then back at his mug. "Please, John…I can't explain. Can't we just leave it now, please?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, going back to his tea. When he finished it he put it on the coffee table. "Where should I sleep?" he asked softly.

"Wherever you want," Sherlock said, wondering what John was going to choose.

"I'm going to go up to my room," John said. He stood and took his mug to the kitchen before coming back. "Feel free to come up again if you like." He reached out and ruffled Sherlock's hair as he passed.

"John, I said don't," Sherlock called out too sharply. He pulled his head away and then smoothed his hair quickly. "Sorry," he mumbled and stood up, adding "I'm going to check my email," before moving to his desk. He didn't look over at John.

"I didn't . . ." John started, trailing off when Sherlock apologised and stood up. John had only pet his hair, not made an advance. Why was Sherlock interpreting everything in this weird way? That's when John realised: it was about the hair again. That's when Sherlock had stopped him the last time.

He said good night and headed up to his room, getting ready for bed and pulling out his computer. He stared at the search engine for a few minutes before typing in exactly what he was thinking. _My boyfriend doesn't like his hair being touched._

The search came up with all sorts of information about sensitive scalps and the possibility of it being painful or even arousing to some. Arousing. Is that why Sherlock didn't want John touching his hair? He didn't want to share that with John. When he heard footsteps he shut the laptop and quickly lay down as if he'd been sleeping.

Sherlock had tried lying down in his own room, but he knew almost immediately that he'd need to go up and be by John. He wasn't sure what that meant -- was it good or bad or neither? -- but it was his reality now. He got up and went to John's door, knocking lightly and asking, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," John said, shifting to make room for Sherlock.

"Just to sleep," Sherlock said and then wished he hadn't. His face flushed a bit as he crawled into the bed. He lay next to John but not close enough to touch. "Please," he said softly not looking at him. "Can it just be nice between us?"

"Just to sleep," John said, not acknowledging the last bit. Things were nice between them. John wasn't denying that. But he also knew it could be better. But he couldn't, wouldn't force that. He needed to do this carefully. He pulled the covers over both of them and turned his back to Sherlock, scooting a bit closer.

Sherlock turned and curled around him, slipping his hand to hold John's. This was good. He liked sleeping like this. He closed his eyes and started to relax.


	6. An Unsatisfying Case

In the morning, Sherlock woke first, this time still pressed against John. He stroked the skin on John's arm lightly. There'd been a lot of changes in the flat in the last week, but he felt he was adjusting all right. There'd been clues, of course, that this was what their relationship was leading to. It was different but good. He hoped it stayed this good.

John shifted and pressed back against Sherlock. He didn't have work today, and he hoped they could stay like this for a while.

Sherlock snuggled a bit closer. Eventually he rolled over and noticed the clock, assuming John wasn't working. "I need the toilet," he said finally. He put a soft kiss on the back of John's neck and then stood up, going to the bathroom before starting the tea. He poured one for John and then took his over to the desk. His email revealed they had a new case.

John warmed at the soft kiss and shifted again after Sherlock got up, waiting for him to come back to bed.

"Tea's ready!" Sherlock called. "We've got a case." He was already copying down info, hoping he and John could see the woman today.

John groaned and sat up, getting out of bed and dressing quickly. He brushed his teeth and headed down to the kitchen. "What's it about?"

"Comes through as dodgy business dealings but there's something about her tone which makes me think there's something personal there as well," Sherlock replied. He looked over at John. "I'm glad you're home today," he said smiling at him for a moment. Then he looked back at the computer and said, "Should I set up a meeting?"

"Sure," John answered, digging into the fridge for something to have for breakfast. He took a quick shower while Sherlock waited for the confirmation of the meeting and then they were off. They met with the woman in a cafe and John took notes while she explained everything again in more detail. John kept glancing at Sherlock -- he could tell that his brain was going, but who knew what he was thinking.

When they were finished with her, Sherlock sent John on his way to the company for more information while Sherlock ran off to find the man the woman suspected was involved. John couldn't get too much information from the employees. He jotted down things that he saw and made a note for Sherlock about the company policy of silence.

Sherlock's investigation was a bit more useful and gave a context to the cold shoulder John had received at the company. They worked for the rest of the night -- breaking only to order food -- and then went to bed, John going up first and then Sherlock following a few minutes later.

The next day they worked as well. This time, Sherlock decided to head to the woman's company, and he sent John to see Lestrade to check out the company's vice president. His interviews with a few employees had been useful, and he was sure John would turn up a criminal background on the VP. He headed over to Lestrade's office to find out if he was right.

As Sherlock approached the door, he heard voices and stopped to listen. He could hear Lestrade and John but Donovan was there as well. In a loud voice, she was giving John her usual lecture about Sherlock's freakishness, encouraging him to get out while he still could. Sherlock heard Lestrade's low voice respond but he couldn't make out the words. Before he could hear anything else, he took a deep breath and went inside, not looking at John or Donovan, just asking Lestrade for the information.

After a run through of what Lestrade had, Sherlock knew his suspicions about the VP had been correct. Their case was solved, and he immediately sent the woman a text to meet and wrap things up. They chose the same cafe, Sherlock filling John in on everything as they walked. The woman was grateful and rewarded them with payment, and they headed back to Baker Street.

"That was a pretty good case," John pointed out. "It was good working together like that."

"Yeah, it was good," Sherlock said. "We did a good job." For some reason, he didn't want to look at John. All of a sudden, he couldn't stop worrying about the changes in their relationship and his issues with the sex stuff. Would John just get fed up with yet another one of Sherlock's frustrating behaviours?  
  
John nodded even though there was something off about his tone. Wasn't he 'satisfied' with this case? "It kept us busy at least," he said but that only added to the awkwardness.

"Yeah, I said it was good," Sherlock said. "I hope we get another one soon. It's good to be busy." He made himself a cup of tea but that didn't help to take the edge off. "What do you want to do for dinner?" he asked, moving over and checking his email. There was nothing new.

"Do you want to go out? We can celebrate the good case," John said.

"Yeah sure, that's fine," Sherlock said. He stood up. "I'm going to freshen up a bit, I guess," he said and headed the bathroom. He used the toilet and then brushed his teeth and washed his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and took a deep breath. He just needed to relax a little.

John watched him disappear into the bathroom and he waited, wondering if Sherlock was taking care of himself in there. Or maybe, if Sherlock wasn't satisfied, he would refuse to satisfy John tonight. Immediately he realised how selfish that was so he dismissed the thought. Sherlock came back quickly, and John led the way out.

They decided on Angelo's. Sherlock ordered a bottle of wine and immediately poured himself a glass. Sherlock asked Angelo to bring a large portion of what John ordered so he could pick from his plate. He smiled at John a little.

John smiled back but behind the smile he felt that Sherlock was tense and possibly irritated. "Are you okay?" he asked carefully, sipping his own wine.

"Sure, I'm fine," Sherlock said. "It's just . . . nothing really. I just feel a bit off, I guess."

"How come?" John asked, tapping at his glass lightly.

"No reason, I guess," Sherlock said even though they both knew it was a lie. He topped up his glass and took another drink. "Oh, I meant to ask, did you tell Lestrade . . . you know, about . . . things, this thing?" he asked, motioning between him and John with his glass.

John shook his head. "It's not anyone's business. Besides, I'm not exactly sure what it is so I think I should figure that out first."

"You mean you don't want to keep doing it?" Sherlock asked. This is precisely what he was worried about. He took another big gulp of wine.

"I didn't say that," John said. "I just . . . I don't know what to call this. We're more than flatmates and even friends now. I just . . . we should figure it out before we tell everyone."

"If you'd rather keep it to ourselves, that's fine," Sherlock said. "I know it's complicated enough for you already . . . explaining me."

John's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I didn't mean I wanted to hide it."

"I just mean," Sherlock paused, not quite sure what he meant. "I just mean I'm sorry that I frustrate you."

"Sherlock . . . where is this coming from?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said, fiddling with his silverware. "I just mean, now when Donovan goes on about me, won't you feel even more embarrassed?"

John furrowed his brows even more before it clicked. He remembered what she had been saying before Sherlock walked in and he must have heard her. "Sherlock, I'm not embarrassed by you. I never have been. Donovan is an idiot. If her opinion was able to sway me, don't you think it would have the first night when you ditched me at that case?" He smiled softly and reached out to touch Sherlock's hand. "It certainly won't now."

Sherlock let John hold his hand. "I guess," he said quietly. "I just don't want you to be disappointed." He paused. "I don't want to be disappointed either."

"I'm not disappointed, Sherlock. I'm happy. And thanks to your most recent actions I'm satisfied. I just . . . I wish you would let me satisfy you." He lifted his glass to take a drink. "I notice you didn't say you were tonight . . ." he added quietly.

"I don't know . . ." Sherlock said. Why didn't the case satisfy him as much as it should have? Was it just because what he'd heard in Lestrade's office? He'd heard all that before. So had John. But the changes between them at the flat were sure to lead to changes everywhere, and that's what had worried Sherlock earlier and ruined his satisfaction.

Now John wanted the biggest change. He wanted Sherlock to let go -- to be totally vulnerable in front of him. It wasn't that Sherlock was worried about John -- about trusting him or feeling comfortable with him. It wasn't John he was worried about. It was himself. He worried that he'd ruin everything. "Perhaps satisfaction isn't on the cards for me this evening," he finally said.

John licked his lips lightly and swallowed back his disappointment. "Well, we both know what you think about psychics so we'll see," he smiled softly.

Sherlock smiled at John. John was so good -- Sherlock, with all his problems, didn't deserve him. "Why do you even like me?" he asked.

"What? Where do I start?" John smiled. "You're smart, interesting, handsome, you have an exciting job, you include me in your exciting job so I won't be bored . . . the list goes on."

"But I'm . . . obnoxious. You've said it a thousand times," Sherlock said.

"You've called me an idiot more than that," John pointed out. "Yet, I don't think you really think I am. I feel like, just like everything else between us, we are each an exception for each other."

"I don't know, John," Sherlock said. "Finish your food and stop harassing me."

"I'm not!" John protested, taking one more bite before pushing the plate away.

"Come on," Sherlock said. He stood up and realised he felt a little drunk. He felt better once they were out on the street. He bumped into John a couple times as they walked so in the end, he gave up and just held onto John's arm.

"Did you have too much?" John asked. His plan to get Sherlock off wouldn't work if he was drunk.

"Too much for what? I don't intend to drive or operate any heavy machinery," Sherlock said. "I'm fine," he added. "Just a little more relaxed." They continued their walk home.


	7. John Solves His Own Case

When they got inside John hung both of their coats before joining Sherlock on the sofa. "Relaxed is good, right?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "Are you relaxed?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I am," he murmured. He reached over and touched Sherlock's neck, playing lightly with the curls there.

"John," Sherlock said cautiously.

"You're so handsome…" John said quietly, pushing his fingers up just a little bit more. Very little.

Sherlock closed his eyes. John's touch felt so good. He wasn't sure what to do, and he found it a little hard to think about what to do so he didn't do anything.

"You make me feel so good," John said, his fingers moving further up the back of Sherlock's head. "I want you to feel good," he whispered, properly burying his fingers into Sherlock's hair and tugging softly.

"John," Sherlock said again, instinctively pushing his head into John's hand. His own hands pushed against the sofa cushion.

So Sherlock's was a case of arousing. Not pain. John had solved the case. He leaned in and kissed his mouth softly, combing his fingers through the curls before tugging harder.

Sherlock let John kiss him and then he kissed John back. This felt good but dangerous -- John's touch was sending electricity through him. He knew if he didn't stop him now, it might go too far and he'd be unable to stop him. He moved one hand to grip John's arm but didn't push it away. 

John dipped to kiss along his jaw and neck, his hand steady combing and tugging on the soft curls.

"Can we go into my room?" Sherlock whispered, his voice already different as his breath changed.

John nodded, slowly combing his hand out of Sherlock's hair. He stood and offered Sherlock his hand, meeting his eyes.

Sherlock walked with John to his bedroom. He stopped by the bed and reached into his nightstand drawer. He pulled out a hair brush and handed it to John. "Will you?" he asked softly and then lay down on the bed.

John took the brush and, for one second, it seemed a bit silly. But it was anything but that. He understood what this meant, what Sherlock was trusting him with. Not his hair, but his vulnerability. This was clearly something he kept secret and now he was sharing it with John. He nodded, settling by the headboard so Sherlock could lay in his lap.

Sherlock curled up by John, resting his head on John's lap. He wrapped his hand around John's leg, holding it tightly.

John ran the brush through his hair softly, his other hand on Sherlock's chest, his eyes moving over Sherlock's face.

"That feels good," Sherlock exhaled quietly. He reached up and held on to John's hand, pressing it tightly against his chest. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you are letting me in," John murmured, watching the brush move through his curls.

"Shhh," Sherlock said. He pulled John's hand down his body, letting it rest on Sherlock's groin. He flattened John's hand against his hardening cock, moving his hips a little.

John palmed at Sherlock's cock a few times before opening his trousers and pushing his hand inside, tugging his cock out and stroking as he continued to brush Sherlock's hair. 

"John," Sherlock moaned softly. "Don't stop." He took a few deep breaths and let his body move with John's hand.

John gripped a bit harder, stroking faster as he moved the brush over different parts of his head. "Can I use my hand in your hair?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Sherlock said. He turned just a bit to make it easier for John to stroke him. "Please . . ."

John put the brush down beside him and laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair. It was a whole process. Slowly, he let his fingers brush the strands. He let them move deeper, he let them stir the bases as he grazed his scalp, and then he let them properly touch Sherlock's skin. He combed through the curls, tightening his grip just as he got to the ends, tugging on them softly, and then harder and harder, over and over as he combed through them. His other hand stroked Sherlock's cock faster.

"Fuck, John," Sherlock exhaled. "John, it's so much . . . it feels so good."

John's hands kept moving, the one on his cock now swiping over the tip. "You're so sexy," he moaned. It was a beautiful thing watching Sherlock lost in pleasure, watching him not holding back.

Sherlock looked up at John and then closed his eyes, turning off his brain and just letting his body feel good. It did feel good. It felt better than it had in so long. His breath got a bit more ragged. "Kiss," he mumbled, lifting his chin a little.

John bent at his waist and kissed Sherlock's mouth, tugging his hair harder to angle his face for an easier kiss, stroking even faster now. 

Sherlock lifted his hands to John's head, holding the kiss as long as he could. "I'm close," he huffed. "Don't stop."

"I won't," John said, kissing him again, tugging at his hair.

Sherlock felt his body start to tighten and then he was coming into John's hand. He panted heavily against John's neck.

John shifted out from under Sherlock but stayed bent so they were close together. He lay beside him and held him close, petting his hair softly.

Sherlock pressed against John. He put his arms around John and pulled him close. "Thank you," he said again.

"Sherlock," John exhaled as if that one word said everything.

Sherlock shifted a little. "Let's get under the covers," he said. "I'm sleepy."

"Okay," John agreed. "You are so gorgeous, Sherlock. You looked . . . I can't stop seeing it," he admitted, covering the both of them.

"Shhh," Sherlock said. He turned his back so John could spoon him. He pulled John's hand to his own chest. "I don't want you to leave me, John. Promise you'll stay and we can be like this, all right?" he whispered.

"I promise I'm not going to leave," John promised.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let's just stay like this for a minute." He let his eyes close.

John kissed the back of his neck and nodded. "Just like this," he murmured.

Sherlock slept for a little bit and then woke up with John still holding him tightly. He turned himself around to face John. He lifted his hands to John's cheeks and kissed his mouth softly.

John hummed and blinked his eyes open. "Hello," he said with a small smile.

"Hello," Sherlock said. "I forgot to tell you that I was feeling. . . satisfied." He smiled stupidly.

John grinned. "That makes me satisfied," he said.

"Hmmm," Sherlock said. "Now that I've seen you properly satisfied, I'm not sure I believe you." He rubbed John's shoulder lightly. 

"I'm glad I got to see you properly satisfied," he smiled. He touched Sherlock's cheek and let his fingertips brush Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock's face flushed a bit. "I'm sorry about that," he said quietly.

"It's okay," John said. "I understand. I just didn't know . . ." he mused softly.

"It's just . . . I'm already odd enough," Sherlock said. "I don't know why I like it . . . it's just been easier to keep it to myself, I guess."

"It's not as unusual as you might think," John assured him. "But I'm glad you shared it with me." He kissed Sherlock softly and smiled. "We could do it again -- do more . . ."

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I suppose we could," he said, sliding his hand down John's back and pulling his body closer.

John kissed his mouth again, sliding his hand up and gently lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair.

The touch sent a sense of electricity from Sherlock's head through this body straight to his cock. "John," he exhaled, moving his hand to hold John's hip tightly. He kissed his mouth roughly, nipping at John's bottom lip.

"Do you have supplies?" he asked breathlessly, already working to get their clothes off.

"In the drawer," Sherlock said.

"Take everything off," John said as he moved to reach for the drawer. He opened it and grabbed the lube and a condom before noticing the different brushes and hair products. He smiled to himself before closing it and taking it own clothes off.

Sherlock stripped off his clothes and then wiggled close to John, kissing his mouth softly. He felt a bit anxious but also safe.

John moved his body between Sherlock's legs and leaned down to kiss him again, both hands burying into Sherlock's hair.

"John," Sherlock moaned into the kiss. There was something that was both sexy and reassuring about saying John's name. He rested his hands on John's lower back, pulling him tighter as he rocked his hips up against John.

"I have to open you but . . .I don't want to let go," he smiled, combing both hands through and pulling softly.

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought about John's hands in his hair. Then he opened this eyes again. "I want you like that," he said, reaching up and bringing one of John's hands down between his legs. "I want you and I want to see you satisfied." He moved his hand in between their bodies, holding John's cock.

"I want you like that too," John murmured, pouring a bit of lube on Sherlock. He rubbed softly with his hand before pushing his finger in gently. He tugged Sherlock's hair at the same time.

"God," Sherlock said. He took a minute to adjust to the feeling and then began to let his body move against John's finger. He tried to slowly stroke John in the same rhythm.

John looked down between them, combing his fingers through Sherlock's hair over and over as he gently added a second finger, pumping slowly. "I . . . it feels so good . . ." he said softly.

"You feel good," Sherlock said. He did his best to wrap his fingers around himself as well, so as their bodies moved, their cocks rubbed together. "It's so good."

John spread his fingers to open Sherlock more. "I want . . . I need you."

"Please," Sherlock said, watching John's face. "Go slow but . . . I'm ready." He looked at John closely and said, "I think I love you."

John paused both hands as he looked into Sherlock's eyes. "I . . . I love you, too," he said, and he kissed Sherlock long and soft before he pulled his fingers out slowly. He rolled on the condom and let go of Sherlock's hair for a moment so he could push into gently.

Sherlock let his eyes close as he felt John move into him. It never felt so . . . much, so close, so intimate. He opened his eyes and looked up at John. "Okay?" he asked softly.

John nodded, gazing down at Sherlock. As he paused to let Sherlock adjust, he started playing with Sherlock's hair again, starting a slow rhythm.

Sherlock moved his head with John's hand. It felt so good, John's touching his hair like that -- as intimate as the other thing John was doing. Sherlock's hand moved between them, stroking himself slowly at first.

As John's hips began to moved, his hand in Sherlock's hair moved more wildly, tangling and tugging at the dark curls. He moaned and panted, his free hand clutching Sherlock's hip.

Sherlock's hand sped up as John's movements did. "Oh god, John," Sherlock moaned loudly. He tightened his muscles around John, bringing his knees back so John would feel deeper.

John thrust harder and faster into Sherlock. "I-I'm close," he panted, leaning down a bit as he opened and closed his fingers in Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock stroked himself fast and firm as he looked up and said, "Show me, John." He felt himself start to let go, and his body jerked a bit as it tightened and then fell into his orgasm.

John wanted to wait, to watch Sherlock again but it was too much. He felt Sherlock squeezing around him and he watched Sherlock's face for a moment, and he couldn't help but follow. He shuddered and came inside of Sherlock, gripping his hair and his hip very tightly.  
  
Sherlock pulled John down against him. "Oh my god, John," he mumbled over and over. He felt physically overwhelmed and exhausted. He pressed the side of his face against John's cheek as they both tried to catch their breaths.

John could only moan softly and pant into Sherlock's neck where his face was buried. He felt completely spent.

"John," Sherlock finally said. "Let's go to sleep."

John nodded. He shifted and tossed the condom before curling up beside him.

Sherlock exhaled slowly and pulled John closer to him. "Our friendship, John," he said, smiling, "is very satisfying."

John smiled drowsily. "Everything with you is," he said.


End file.
